Dying Light
by LeiaKitten
Summary: Hermione Granger: the brightest witch of her age, brains of the Golden Trio, muggleborns, advocate for lesser beings rights... and uprising Dark Lady. perhaps she will show mercy to those who used her as the perfect poster monkey for the Light's agenda. or perhaps not. Rated M for torture scene.
1. Dying Light

"Tell me where he is," the young witch stood over him, holding her wand against his neck as he struggled against his bonds. "Tell me, and I will let you live... Ronald." Ron Weasley whimpered and continued twisting, the magical ropes only tightening at his useless attempts.

"Merlin, 'Mione, leave me alone, leave Harry alone, you killed You-Know-Who already, what more could you possibly want?! Just let me go, we'll do whatever you want. What happened to you?" He flinched as she threw her head back and laughed, not the warm, rich laugh she once had, but instead a malicious, threatening, sharp laughter.

"Oh, Wonniekins, you know better than most what happened, you, and Harry, and the whole accursed Order of the Phoenix." She snarled as she spat the last bit out, a venomous glare crossing her face. "If you won't tell me, Ronald, I will get the information. You know I am only asking nicely now, so you won't be in the same vegetative state as Frank and Alice Longbottom at St. Mungo's. Now, you will tell me Ron, or you will be forced to show me." Ron gulped weakly and stopped struggling, but finally looked up at her, a defiant tilt to his head.

"Do your wor-"

"My pleasure." Ron began screaming and thrashing violently, though Hermione had not moved an inch from where she stood, looking down at him, her wand in a relaxed position where one might be fooled into believing they could physically disarm her if they tried. It lasted a long time, and Hermione never broke a sweat, merely arched her eyebrow. Ron, however, twitched and thrashed and screamed, until the blood vessels in his eyes had popped, until his bonds dug into him so that he bled, until he began gurgling blood as he screamed, his throat raw and his vocal chords spent. He finally slumped forward, and Hermione straightened and took a deep breath.

"My... my lady, should I...?" Hermione turned quickly and had her wand at Draco's throat before he could gasp. She blinked, then smiled and dug her wand in a little before turning away.

"Sorry, forgot my surroundings for a moment there. Yes, dump him at St. Mungo's with the usual brand. Don't -"

"-Be seen, yes, I know." He gulped as she spun back to him, her eyes narrowed.

"Also don't forget your place, and the extent of my mercy." He nodded quickly and bowed his head, and she waved her hand, motioning his dismissal. He stepped forward to Ron's limp body, rolled the back of his shirt up and carved into his back a large red perpendicular cross, then pulled him free of his bonds and apparated away with a soft pop. Hermione smiled slowly, the new knowledge running through her mind.

"I've got you now, Harry. You can't keep running from me forever. I will have my revenge. Even if I have to spread like the Black Death from township to township until I find you." She spoke aloud, and twitched the shades in the room to look out the window. She laughed softly under her breath as she saw the clouds of smoke billowing from London, the city ablaze as people fled, the anti-apparation wards preventing even the most powerful witches and wizards from using any but muggle methods. Her laugh was scornful, watching them stream out like an infestation of roaches from a crumbling building. "I'll stomp you all out."

"Harry, we have to do something. She... she got to Ron, Harry. We- we found him in front of St. Mungo's with the mark." Everyone around gasped, some cried out, and Hannah Abbott whimpered out loud, turning and burying her face in Neville's chest. Harry looked up from his glass of firewhiskey, bootlegged from Fred, George, and Lee, but all the same to burn away his pain and guilt. Ginny's eyes burned with a golden brown fire as she looked at him, his clothes in tatters, as all of theirs were. They had been on the run for months now, about eleven, to be precise, since the Battle of Hogwarts, since she... since Hermione went dark.

Harry looked around to all the faces surrounding the small, cramped room in the remote run down muggle motel they had taken shelter at. He had thought they would never see Ron alive again, and now dreaded finding the state he would surely be in, after that mad woman had had a go round with him. She was brilliant, and ruthless, and didn't give up. Qualities which were amazing when she was helping them hunt down Voldemort. Qualities which had caused their downfall when she discovered she was little more than the Order's cute muggleborn poster monkey, propaganda for their posterity and acceptance. She had exploded, literally, her magic bursting free from any constraints and boundaries, and it washed over Voldemort and Harry both, killing the horcrux inside Harry, and also Voldemort himself, in one go. He supposed, he thought bitterly, he at least had her to thank for that. Following that, she had hunted down and killed, in increasingly gruesome ways, every member of the Order without a shred of mercy.

"Is he...?" Neville asked in a hushed voice as Ginny crossed the room, looking battle weary and a little sick. Ginny just nodded her head sadly, and everyone looked down in silence. Harry stood suddenly, setting his glass, now empty, down with a sharp clunk, and he walked out of the room. He turned down the road and began walking, but soon was surrounded by his friends, all talking at the same time.

"Harry, you can't, you mustn't!" Shouted Ginny.

"Look, mate, she'll kill you, don't-"

"-do it, it isn't worth your neck." The twins finished each other's sentences, both throwing their arms around him, which he shrugged off.

"Harry." He stopped dead in his tracks. The one voice who might reason with him, ironically enough. "Harry, I know what you're feeling right now. You should sit down and think this through, make a plan. We don't want to see you die, or worse. I know you need to talk to her, Harry. But not like this." Luna's dreamy voice floated towards him, as if carried on the wind to his ears, and he slowly turned. She had tears running down her face, but otherwise, had her usual look of calm indifference and secret wisdom. Her blonde hair fell in her eyes some, filthy and tangled, but the look in her eyes, it gave him strength, gave him hope, and damn her, she was right. He needed to think this through. He blinked, then nodded slowly, and everyone sighed in relief and turned back to the motel. Luna approached him, and he pretended to not notice the sad look in Ginny's eyes as she walked into the room with her brothers. He wrapped Luna up in his arms, carefully, as though she were made of china.

"You silly man, what did you think you would do, get yourself killed for all of us?" She chuckled as she nuzzled his neck.

"Well, it did seem to work when we were younger." He smiled, against his will, and kissed the top of her head, his eyes scanning the horizon for signs of smoke, signs of Hermione's approaching reign of terror.

"That was when we faced a different kind of evil. This kind, I'm sad to say, is almost justified." Harry looked down sharply at Luna, and she blinked owlishly at him. "Don't tell me you don't think so, Mr. Potter. She was used, and humiliated. She was a laughingstock on both sides. Who can fault her for how she turned out?"

"You could use similar arguments for Tom Riddle, you know. Just because they're a sympathetic evil, doesn't make them any better."

"No," she sighed heavily, "I suppose not. I just want her back. I want our Hermione back." Harry nodded, and pulled Luna close to him again, hugging her tighter.

"I know, love. I know." He stiffened as he smelled burning grass. "We have to move. She's on her way-"

"Here? Yes, I am." Hermione used wandless magic to force Harry and Luna apart and bind them up. "What a quaint little muggle motel Harry. This must have been your idea, I can't see how most of them would be able to stomach it otherwise. Clever, I admit. Unfortunately for you, Ronald was such an easy egg to... crack." Harry struggled furiously to get to Luna, who laid limp on the ground, calmly observing Hermione.

"My lady, we have all the insubordinates restrained. To the Manor with them?" Draco Malfoy stepped out of the motel, leading Harry's friends at wandpoint, all bound and gagged. Hermione smiled cruelly.

"Yes, to the Manor. I will take these two lovebirds myself." She gathered Harry and Luna to her side.

"The Manor? Where you were tortured for being muggleborn?" Harry sneered. "By his insane aunt, and now he's working for you?" He tossed his head at Draco.

"Yes, funny how that works, wouldn't you say? Conspiracy makes for strange bedfellows. But then, given how you turned on little Ginevra after discovering her hand in my uprising... well. I shan't say more than pot, meet kettle." Harry turned blood red as Ginny was tugged out of the house, kicking and biting at Theodore Nott. Ginny turned and looked miserably at Harry, and he cast his eyes downward in guilt.

"Don't hurt them, Hermione. You're only here for me, and you already got Ron. The rest of the Order is dead, just let them go." Hermione's eyes flashed, and she gave a mock tilt of her head, as if pausing to consider. He noted, as she did this, her eyes had transitioned from the honey brown they once were to a malicious, sparkling black, her frizzy hair had smoothed into bouncy curls, and her appearance overall was almost unnatural.

"Well, you see Harry, dear, normally I would agree with you, and it really isn't up to mortals to pass judgement. But as we know, I have transcended that, thanks to our old headmaster and his cute little storybook."

"No..." he gasped out. "You found them all... the Hallows. You shouldn't, 'Mione, they're dangero-"

"I know Harry, believe me. Oh how well do I know. Why do you think the esteemed Misters Crabbe and Goyle aren't in attendance for this brute force task? They gave their lives in service in order to help me ascend from my previous... tainted... status. Oh, and Miss Parkinson too, although that was obviously not voluntary, oh Harry, if you could have heard all the horrid words and phrases she'd said." She smiled, a small evil smirk, leaning in to him conspiratorily, as though they were two old school friends having a catch up on gossip. His eyes widened as he took in Hermione up close. Her skin glowed, a literal glow, and she even was drifting a few inches above the ground.

"Hermione... what did you do?" He whispered, horrified.

"She's made herself a fallen, Harry. I like your glow, by the way." Hermione glanced over at Luna, and her small smirk grew into a wide, relaxed smile.

"Luna, of course you would understand. Everybody thinks you're barmy, but we know better." She tapped her nose and grinned at Luna, who smiled back. Hermione narrowed her eyes and turned away from Luna, sending a silent stunner spell back at her. "Harry, you, my friend, are in for a long day tomorrow. Let's get you home." She snickered at his horrified look, tugged them both up and turned on the spot, apparating them into Malfoy Manor. Harry knew, as he was led away to a room crackling with wards and magic, that he very well might not survive the next day. He dropped to his knees in the room, tears rolling down his face, and shrieked. He wanted his friend back. He wanted Luna. He wanted things to be the way they were before all of this happened. He wanted out, out of this room, this prison, this reality. He had never wanted something so badly before in his life.

Outside his window, a breeze stirred, causing ashes to drift across the ground. A small ember fought for its life on the ground, a faint glow, but persistent. Nothing special to it, just an ember that refused to die out. At Harry's shrieks and sobs, the ember glowed brighter, almost imperceptibly, then winked out of existence, as though it had never been there at all. Another dying light, adding to the growing darkness.

***AN: This might be a OS, depending on how many people like it or not, and depending on how busy I am versus how lazy I am. :3 None of the OC's belong to me, nor the Harry Potter franchise, I am not making money off this, and bless J.K. Rowling for her creation of the Potterverse. Amen. ;D


	2. The Beginning

"...Mione... Hermione... HERMIONE!" She jumped, her face smacking against the side of a glass window, her neck aching at the very uncomfortable position she'd curled up in. Rubbing her neck and blearily blinking at her surroundings, Hermione sat up. Ron and Harry sat across from her on a bench. They were on the Hogwarts Express, she now recalled. _What on Earth was I dreaming about...?_ She vaguely remembered someone she knew, yet also didn't, tainted with something dark, something vile, but also... familiar.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione, we thought you'd gone into a coma. Don't scare us like that again." Ron said, frowning at her. Harry's face was scrunched in concern at her, so she gave a small flippant smile to ease their tension.

"I simply fell asleep, Ronald. Don't be so dramatic."

"Hermione... you were laughing and screaming in your sleep... it was pretty disturbing." Harry replied, dropping his eyes to the floor of the train. He had seemed more concerned of his muggleborns best friend as of late, mostly due to the headlines being splashed across the Prophet these days.

 **"Muggleborn leads the rebellion against You-Know-Who"** **"Potter's Muggleborn best friend hailed as hero to the wizarding world"** **"Muggleborn set to patch differences between centuries old blood purity disputes"** **"Hermione Granger: The Trials and Tributes of a Muggleborn Princess"**

Hermione was sick of it. She had endured so much the day that she had accidentally killed Voldemort. Everyone wanted to know how and why she had exploded with suck intense magic that it engulfed the Dark Lord and basically ate him alive. The truth was, she didn't even know exactly her own self. She only knew that she had been thinking in such desperation that she couldn't allow him to kill Harry, couldn't allow him to kill any of them... and then arms had grabbed her and wrenched her back from her best friend.

"Stay back Muggleborn, this is his destiny, not yours." She had blinked up at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who turned a grim face to the fight between Harry and the noseless dark wonder. She let out a single, desperate sob, then anger washed over her. She went numb, and a red haze fell over her vision... and then she passed out. When she awoke, she was being congratulated by witches and wizards of all ages. Her bed in the hospital wing was surrounded up to the next two beds with flowers, teddy bears, cards, chocolates, all congratulating her on her defeat of the darkest wizard in ages.

Hermione blinked and came back to the present, and smiled a small shaky smile at her two best friends, who were regarding her as though she were an invalid. She pushed her aggravation down at their behavior and did what she did best. Proclaimed her happiness at going back to school. Both boys groaned and rolled their eyes, yet exchanged a smirk nonetheless. They were going back to their beloved school, only three months after the Final Battle had taken place.

Those who had missed out on their seventh year at Hogwarts had been invited back by Prof- Headmistress - McGonnagall, and most had accepted the opportunity, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Ron had whined and moaned to his mum about it, but once Molly Weasley set her mind, no one could change it, no matter what. Try as Ron did, with gifts, and threats, and helpless pleas, she would not budge, and firmly steered her youngest son, along with his little sister, onto the platform and up to the train.

Harry had been excited to continue one more year at Hogwarts, if only to put off for one more year a decision on what he'd do with the rest of his life, free from the Dursley's, free from Voldemort's tyranny, free from the weight of the wizarding world's expectations on him as a hero.

Hermione, of course, bounced eagerly in her seat, eyes lit up and chattering away happily about their continued studies, and musing whether McGonnagall might allow her a time turner once more for lessons, before recalling that they had all supposedly been destroyed at the Battle of the Ministry their fifth year. She sighed softly, but then brightened and smirked at both boys.

"Perhaps you two can get another shot at Quidditch, hm?" The boys stared at her like she'd grown a second head, and she rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I'm only trying to get you two to brighten up, have something to look forward to this year! Merlin knows, not every year has to be a battle for our bloody lives." She sat back and crossed her arms, annoyed. Her annoyance abated, however, when Ron started chuckling, which set Harry off too. She cracked, a small smile on the edge of her lips. The three all burst into relieved laughter.

It silenced quickly though, when the compartment door slid open and grey eyes were blinking in at the trio. Draco Malfoy stood before them, his usual bravado shrunk down to nothing, his robes outdated and uncharacteristically wrinkled. His signature blonde hair had grown longer and shaggy, almost unkempt even. He dropped his eyes to the ground and flushed, mumbling something about not meaning to intrude.

"Malf- Draco, wait!" They all turned to stare at her, Hermione even surprised at her own self. "I, er... I just wanted to say... thank you. For trying to help us, at the Manor, I mean. A-and trying to help us, in the end." His eyes widened and he nodded once, flicking a disbelieving glance between the three of them. Ron gave him a grumpy glare, but nodded anyways, and Harry, who had stopped hating him altogether by the end of their sixth year, gave a solid nod as well, and a small grateful smile.

"Well... I suppose I'll see you lot around then." Malfoy turned and left, softly sliding the compartment shut.

"Blimey, not so much a git anymore, eh?" Ron motioned at the closed compartment door. Hermione and Harry nodded, somewhat uncomfortably, and settled back in their seats. The uncomfortable silence didn't last long though, as Ron invited Harry to play a round or two of exploding snap and Hermione, smiling gently, settled back to read a new book. All was as it should be.


	3. AN

_So, thanks to a few anons reviewing with some lovely hate mail, as well as several wonderful reviews asking, pleading, for me to continue, I've decided to crack this back open and carry on with Hermione's journey into darkness! Bless you anons, but bless you wonderful reviewers even more. 3 Of course none of Rowling's world or characters belong to me and I am making no profit from this. I'll update as often as I can. I can't set a schedule like some wonderful writers on here, as my life is hectic, but I promise not to abandon my stories again._


	4. Sanguine Puris

Hermione rounded the corner to head into the dungeons. The first class she had of her new year was, of course, double Potions with the Slytherins. While Hermione no longer had the resentment for the late Potions professor she once did for all his ruthlessness and favoritism, the dungeons still were hardly her favorite destination in Hogwarts. Horace Slughorn had agreed to return to teach Potions permanently and Hermione also wasn't looking forward to that. She had already been delaying seeing Slughorn or most of his rabid fan club, with their pleas at endearing the precious Muggleborn savior in their obnoxious Slug Club. She worked to keep the distaste off her face as she stepped inside the Potions classroom and settled at the front, her usual spot.

Harry and Ron had the class with her, and she smiled in recognition of Neville and Padma, two others she knew well. She then eyed considerately the Slytherins who slipped in, Malfoy, Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Avery, and surprisingly enough, Pansy Parkinson. Nobody else much cared to sit up front with her, and she looked on in surprise, and then dismay, as she realised nobody wanted to be her partner at her desk... and apparently nobody wanted to be Malfoy's either. He stood, hesitantly, at the back of the classroom until Slughorn closed the door with a resounding thud. Hermione bit her lip as she realised what was about to happen, and glanced annoyed at her Gryffindor classmates. She was shocked to see none of them were holding eye contact with her, something akin to fear or intimidation on their faces.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you please, have a seat. Class has begun." Malfoy huffed softly, but shuffled forward to the only remaining open seat, beside her. Hermione stared down at her advanced potions textbook, her face red. She shook away her musings of what on earth her friends were doing, tossing her to the metaphorical wolves like this. She noted that Malfoy, too, was looking down at his book, his hunched shoulders showing defeat and resignation. Before she could observe further, Professor Slughorn began his introduction, glossing over the events that led this class to existence, and an overview of their syllabus for the year. The second half of class he instructed them to work on brewing minor healing potions, which would be tested and all usable samples would be sent to Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione tutted as she watched Malfoy, dejection clear in his posture, open his book to the page for potions and then halt his movements. She began gathering up the ingredients they'd be using for the simple potion and set the heat for the cauldron. Then she split up the ingredients and set half on Malfoy's table, and smirked when he looked up at her, surprised.

"You didn't think I would be doing all the work, did you?" She scoffed at him. She deflated a moment later, however, when he broke eye contact and looked back down, then began busying himself with preparing his half of the ingredients. They worked in silence until the class ended, and Slughorn pronounced most of the samples - this said with a sharp look at Parkinson and Avery, who'd been giggling and flirting in the back - would be usable for the hospital wing. Hermione stood along with the rest of the class and busied herself with gathering up her bookbag and books, and nearly missed what Malfoy said, softly, almost to himself.

"Not so fun being the savior of the Wizarding World, eh?" She froze in place and looked down at him, shock written on her face. Malfoy stood and slung his bookbag across a shoulder and strode out of the room, seemingly oblivious to her reaction.

"'Mione? You alright?" Ron's voice floated to her and she jerked. Harry and Ron were looking at her with a mix of sympathy and concern... and she hated it. She wasn't some bint to be ogled at, in fear that she'd have a meltdown. She was Hermione bloody Granger... Savior of the Wizarding World. She shook herself mentally at his words floating back into her mind.

"I'm fine Ronald, just peachy. It isn't every day your classmates abandon you to a snake pit after all." She retorted, then turned on her heel and strode away, well aware Ron muttering 'nutter' under his breath after her.

The day carried on in a similar fashion, and Hermione, aggravated though she was, could begin to commiserate with Harry's plight over the previous years, grappling with a fame he never wanted. Some younger students merely gawked or pointed, but older students were eager to fall into one of two categories: run up to her and eagerly attempt to associate with her, or walk away quickly pretending they didn't see her at all. The few handful that looked as if they might engage her in combat were cowed by the large crowds of admirers. _Worthless sheep,_ Hermione thought, then stopped, surprised at herself. Where on Earth had that nasty thought come from? She shook it off and hurried on to her next class, Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

oooOooo

Hermione wearily climbed the changing staircases to Gryffindor tower, mulling over her time tables and study charts in her head. She muttered under her breath as she reorganized the already flawless charts, and paid no attention to the group of first and second years flocking after her, starry eyed and apparently hoping to catch the Muggleborn swot in all her studious glory.

" - heard if she didn't study so hard, she'd be little more than a Squib, can you imagine? How she managed to defeat You-Know-Who is a mystery." She caught one muttering to the others. She grit her teeth and stomped up to the restored portrait of the Fat Lady, growling out "valor" for the password and slamming it shut behind her in the stunned faces of her would be admirers. She glanced around to see the coveted seats by the fire already taken up by her two best friends and a crowd of their other friends, playing a raucous game of Exploding Snap, laughing and cheering as Ron, with his horrible memory, pulled the wrong set and his eyebrows smoked in the resulting explosion. Hermione let out a long suffering sigh and trudged up the stairs to the girls' dorm. Hogwarts, sentient castle that it was, had made an extra corridor and dorm for the Eighth year class. She'd just sunk down onto her four poster and had begun debating on a shower before settling in to do her Arithmancy homework when Ginny peeked around the corner of the dorm and cleared her throat.

"Hermione, er. Ron and Harry asked me to check on you. You seem... exhausted." the redhead spoke softly, as if she thought her friend had a headache. Hermione stretched and sat back up, staring at the stone wall in front of her before answering.

"I'm fine. Just. It's hard... being back." She replied tonelessly and sent a glance at where Lavender would have laid. Ginny stepped just inside the room, mouth open as if to say something comforting, but the voice of her brother floated up the stairs, interrupting her.

"Ginny, just leave her alone. If she wants to be tetchy, let her be. She's earned it, savior of the wizarding world. Harry, Jordan, Neville, and I are going out for a fly. Hurry up if you want to come." Ginny looked back at Hermione guiltily.

"Its okay. I know you're trying to help, Gin, but I know better than Ron giving a rat's arse if I'm tired. Go on. I'll be fine." She shooed her friend away and waited until she heard their voices die down, exiting the common room. She turned abruptly, raising her wand, and sent a nonverbal slashing hex at her four poster. She watched dispassionately as feathers flew from the stuffing. It wasn't enough. She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise up in her chest and continued slashing, then sending bombardas at the other furniture, and finally slumped to the floor, sobbing, as she summoned her canaries and set them to attack the remaining upholstery. Feathers and ashes settled into her unruly hair. Slowly, her sobs subsided, and she stood, wiping her face, and headed back outside to sit with her back against her favorite tree, overlooking the lake.

oooOooo

Draco had decided things could be worse. He sent a tergeo at the dried blood on his face and examined the bruising. The little group of fifth year 'Puffs hadn't done as much damage to him as Granger had in their third year. Either they had never been taught to hit, or they were pulling their punches due to their decidedly non-violent nature. Or they simply couldn't stand beating on someone who wouldn't fight back. He bit back his shame at the looks on their faces, ranging from disgust to pity, as they had walked away. "Not worth getting our hands dirty from his filthy blood," one had spat, and he'd laughed. He, of all people, being insulted on his blood being filthy. But his laughter had choked in his throat as the memory of bushy hair and brown eyes flirted through his head. Staring curiously at him the first time he'd said it. She hadn't even known what it meant. Then those same eyes, begging him to help, to make it stop, to do something as his insane aunt had sat on her and carved the word into her arm with a cursed knife. Mudblood. _Sanguine puris_. What difference did it make, when it all ran the same red and dried the same brown. Not for the first time, he cursed his father, and his father's father, and so on, for dooming them all to a lifetime of servitude and eventually slander for an archaic and foolhardy belief of superiority.

He glanced up in the mirror at a small noise. _Shite_. He didn't want to be caught here, in a girls' loo. He'd hoped Myrtle would be around, despite hearing that McGonnagall had granted her request of being exorcised. It seems some girl had decided they would investigate the truth of that too. He crouched behind the sink and muttered a muffliato, then a quick disillusion spell, and peered around the sink, grimacing at the feel of cold egg running down him. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw Potter, precious Chosen One Potter tugging a decidedly not redheaded girl behind him into the room. Her face was turned away, but as she spoke, his jaw dropped to the floor.

"Harry, I thought you wanted to shag. You said basilisk, and chamber of secrets, I didn't think you meant it literally." The haughty melodic voice of none other than aristocratic purebloods Daphne Greengrass floated through the room. Harry chuckled softly, pulling her hand up and kissing it.

"All in good time, luv. No need to be so randy." Draco bit back a sound of disgust. He thought Potter was still seeing the she-weasel, and it sickened him to think he might still be and was playing the field. For all his various other misdeeds, Draco had more self respect than to shag multiple girls. He kept quiet though, as the green eyed menace stepped up to the middle sink and fidgeted for something, then made a strange guttural hissing sound. Potter stepped back, looking expectant, then disappointed as nothing happened. He sheepishly tugged a hand through his messy hair as Daphne tipped her head back and laughed.

"I suppose now that I'm not a container for Voldemort's disgusting soul, I can't speak Parseltongue anymore. Can't say I'm too disappointed though," he took her by her waist and tugged her close to him, "there are other chambers of secrets I haven't explored yet." Draco allowed a low groan and smacked his head against the floor at that, disgusted. Daphne simply giggled and hopped up onto the sink Potter had hissed at. He decided now would be best to run for the door, while they were too busy with their hands all over each other and his spells hadn't worn off yet. He stifled a chuckle at their startled exclamations as he let the door to the loo slam behind him. His head spun and ached, from the previous beating by the badgers, as well as the still nauseating thought of the Chosen One running his hands over his childhood friends' supple and exposed arse. He shook his head gently and decided to go to his favorite tree looking out over the Black Lake. Perhaps the giant squid would console him. Or eat him. Either seemed preferable at this point.


	5. War is Hell

Hermione sighed as she sat back against her favorite tree, overlooking her favorite spot across the Black Lake. She giggled just a little at the thought of the destruction she had wrought in her new dorm, and her room mates' likely reactions. Parvati probably would wail in horror over the feathers long settled into all their clothes, fret about her couture being ruined. Faith probably would stay quiet, take it all in, maybe comment sarcastically on sporadic redecorating. She probably would have her girlfriend Luna in tow, who might comment that a herd of blithering plimsies must have drifted through or some other nonsense. While it wasn't expressly forbidden for other houses to be in a dorm not of their own, it was frowned upon, but, Hermione reflected, Luna never did seem to follow standards, rules, traditions...

"Merlin, Granger, could you put a tamper on your wet dreams for Loony, or at least turn them down?" A familiar voice crawled tired my from the other side of her tree. She gasped as she took in the pathetic sight of a severely beaten Draco Malfoy. "Yes, yes, sight for sore eyes, I know, now be a good little lion and bugger off. I'm trying to enjoy my tree and your thoughts are too loud and... Gryffindor." He finished with his trademark smirk, that, although it annoyed her, didn't mask the grimace of discomfort when he shifted.

"You're... hurt," she said quietly, carefully.

He raised a brow and smirked wider.

"Astute observation, Watson." Hermione jolted at that, and his smirk broadened into a satisfied grin. "What Granger, shocked the ickle Pureblood Death Eater knows his muggle literature? Art is art. I'm wounded. Literally." He gestured at his still unhealed bruises. Hermione sputtered in indignation, then sufficed herself to huff at him.

"This isn't your tree, Malfoy. It's public property. And I was here first, so you bugger off." She sat back and crossed her arms like a petulant child, even tossing her nose into the air with a sniff. Draco sat back and stared at her, amusement shining in his eyes. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He busted out laughing, a deep baritone laugh that made Hermione want to laugh along. She smirked a little and looked down her nose at him, then gave in to laughing along when she saw he was literally crying from laughing so hard.

"Just what is so funny, you - you - ferret, you cockroach?" She gasped out, still laughing. Madly, that made him wheeze even further with laughter. After a good few minutes, they both settled down and Hermione looked back at him.

"I could fix those, you know." She gestured at the purple, yellow, and sickly green, spreading across his face. He sobered quickly and shook his head. His eyes turned a deep, stormy shade, the threat of storms.

"No. I deserve it. I only fixed my nose because. Well. Malfoy vanity. But I had it coming to me." Hermione leaned in closer, unaware of their proximity.

"Who did it Mal - ... Dra-co?" She awkwardly sounded out his first name and blushed a little. He snorted, and she glared. "What?! Can I not say your name? Do you not want it coming out of the mouth of a Mudbl-"

"Don't!! Don't you dare... don't you dare call yourself that awful word." The blonde had jumped to his feet, unable to look at her. She could see his face, twisted in agony.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't!" He interrupted again. She blinked as he shoved a hand sneakily through his hair. "You aren't allowed to apologise to me Granger. I don't deserve it. And you deserve so much more than a mere apology from me, but." He stopped his pacing and looked down at her, then sat and gripped her shoulders, his stormy grey eyes locked with her chocolate brown eyes. "Gran- Hermione. Her-mi-o-ne. I'm sorry. I did horrible, terrible things. I can never make up for them. But I -" he hesitated, as tears formed in both their eyes, understanding, agony, and sympathy written across both their faces.

BANG!

Hermione shrieked, watching as Draco went flying away from her, splashing into the lake.

"Ger'off her you slimy snake! You Death Eating bastard! You -"

"Ron, no!" Hermione squealed, leaping up to shield Draco from her furious friend's wand. The redhead was followed by a small entourage of their friends, Harry, Ginny draped across Harry's arm, Neville, and Luna, tugging her girlfriend. All eyes were on Hermione as she defended her childhood bully.

"He had his filthy hands on you, 'Mione! Manhandling you with his gitty, slimy, Death Eating-" Hermione sighed and silencioed him, having heard his furious tangent against all Slytherins ever in the history of ever several times too many. Harry stepped forward, emerald eyes narrowed at his bushy haired friend.

"'Mione, what was going on?" He asked suspiciously.

"For Merlin's sake, he was trying to apologise!" She hissed at them, wondering not for the first time how her violent redheaded friend was still allowed to carry a wand. Ginny looked unimpressed, Harry troubled, and the rest thoughtful.

"Well go on with it, let's hear what he has to say." Ginny spoke up, and summoned the blonde from the lake, depositing him at Hermione's feet, not bothering with even a drying or warming spell. Hermione tutted in annoyance, sent the spells at him herself, then shot a rennervate at him. His eyes snapped open and he rolled over, coughing and retching lake water. He rolled back over and, rather than glaring at her friends like he once would have done, surprisingly focused his eyes at the ground in front of him.

"Well, ferret boy? You were saying something to our friend?" Ginny snarled, pointing her wand at him. He slowly looked up and met every one of their eyes in turn, nothing but regret and self loathing shining out of them.

"I deserve this. I'm sorry for all I have done. I know it will never be enough, but... I'm sor-" Draco let out a cry of pain as Ron, silenced but not subdued, ran forward and began punching and kicking him. Hermione, panicked, lifted her wand and shot a petrificus totalus at him. He froze and toppled over by Malfoy, glaring and seething. "No, let him go. I told you, I deserve it." Draco muttered through the fresh blood and bruises.

"I think not." Everyone turned to look at Luna, her dreamy voice floating over to him, causing him to go still. "We were all just children. Children fighting a power hungry maniac. He had the most severe and tragic infestation of nargles. Terrible creatures." Luna drifted off, turning to her girlfriend Faith at that. She smiled angelically, as if recalling Faith was there, then tugged at her hand to walk away. "Dirigible plums will help with Ron's!" She said over her shoulder as they left, chattering about plans to scout the Forbidden Forest to find some unknown creature Xenophilius had told them about.

They all looked back at each other. Hermione blinked. Draco blinked. They all blinked. And the silence stretched on for uncomfortable eternities.

"So... we should-" Harry began, only to be interrupted.

"POTTER! WEASLEY!!" Everyone sighed in resignation at the Scottish timbre of their Headmistress. They were all in for it now. "Dueling outside on sacred school grounds, the shame, the blasphemy! Fifty points from each of your houses!!" Everyone winced as she continued screeching, everyone glad Ron remained paralyzed and thus couldn't argue and cause more points to be deducted. They all recalled the first few years of their rule breaking escapades, ending with McGonnagall barking 'Each!' anytime the troublemaking ginger protested their loss of house point.

They all trudged back to the castle for dinner, Hermione levitaging Ron's still bound body as McGonnagall smoothly suggested they only restore Ron once they separated, glancing sharply at the blond Slytherin who'd remained quiet throughout the whole tongue lashing. As they began to drift off, Draco sending a wary, searching glance at Harry and Ginny as they held hands walking into the castle, Hermione tapped his shoulder.

"Malf - Draco," she began, heat rising up to color her cheeks and neck. " I... I'm sorry. For Ron. He's different. Since the war, since his brother -" her breath hitched and Draco looked away, tears shining in both of their eyes.

"Hermione, don't apologise. The war fucked us all up. War is hell." She blinked again at him, shocked at his newfound appreciation for Muggle literature. His hand twitched up, as if he wanted to wipe away the lone tear tracing down her cheek, but he cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Blaise." Hermione rose an eyebrow at him and he blushed, dipping his head. "My friend, Blaise Zabini. His mum was Italian, and enjoyed the finest of life. She was neutral in the war, so she didn't care what was muggle or magical. Art is art. That's what she always told him. What he told me." Hermione took a deep shaky breath and nodded, a small smile on her lips. She motioned that she was going to catch up with her friends before bounding off, reversing the body bind curse on her friend. Draco's eyes followed her until she sat down at her table, a frown on her face once again as her friends undoubtedly hissed and spewed their dissent at her apparent acceptance of his apologies. _War is hell_ , he thought again as he slipped away from the noisy hall, up to the Astronomy tower, where he decided he needed to go for another round of penance.

 _*A/N* Thank you to the lovely, and even not so lovely, reviews. All of you have been an inspiration to kick my butt into gear on continuing this story. I want to be sure and credit some of my words. I recently finished reading The Wrong Strain, by Colubrina, who is all around a wonderful author. You should go check out all of her stories, Dramione lovers won't be disappointed. I used her phrases, "Art is art" and "War is hell". Both struck me as highly appropriate in this Dramione redemption and condemnation arc. Yes, I am well aware my characters might be a bit OOC, but really, who but the great J.K. Rowling herself could truly depict her characters? The world is a stage, and I am merely mucking about in the sandbox. -grin- Anyways, thank you again to those who read, review, comment, and (hopefully?) rec. I will be updating more now that I am feeling my Muse again._


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